Kings Cross : Sequel to As I Lay Dying
by M. B. Walsh
Summary: The station has always been an important gateway into the magical world, but what else does it represent? Could it also be an avenue into a world beyond our own? In this sequel to As I Lay Dying, we follow the story of Emily Coyne


**Kings Cross **

The station has always been an important gateway into the magical world, but what else does it represent? Could it also be an avenue into a world beyond our own? In this sequel to _As I Lay Dying, _we follow the story of Emily Coyne.

In the senseless void of sweet oblivion, there is no pain, no suffering, no consciousness… Time has no meaning, there is nothing to fret, nothing to feel… But somehow, she still had a sense of _being. _She could not explain it, she could not comprehend it, but she knew that she undeniably existed. She thought, therefore, she was. And as she came to this inexplicable conclusion, she also knew with certainty that she had a body. She was standing upon some firm surface, and there was the gentle flow of wind around her. As she inhaled the fresh air, she discovered that she had mouth, nose and lungs. She could feel soft fabric against her skin, neither warm nor cool, but simply there. Finally, she opened her eyes, and was dazzled by white light. She was standing outside, under a pure bright sky. She was wearing robes of purest white. Her curly hair was free and wild, lifted gently by the wind. She was completely alone, and she was gazing at the huge façade of Kings Cross Station. And she knew, at that moment, that she was Emily Coyne.

Realization came, not in violent, crashing waves, but in calm, gentle swells. She had been at Hogwarts. There had been a great battle against the death eaters. She had been tending to the wounded when she was hit by a curse. She had lain in agony as the battle raged around her. Lord Voldemort had finally been defeated. And, she, Emily Coyne, had died.

Funnily enough, this did not trouble Emily. She was, however, rather intrigued. In her life, Emily had not been a great believer in the afterlife. She was a scientist, a realist, who demanded proof. She had never imagined that she would retain any sentience after she departed life. Was this real? Was heaven really a deserted train station? Surly not. This was a delusion, a trick of the mind. Rather than walking down a dark tunnel towards a blinding light, her mind had planted her in a desolate railway station. Absurd as the seemed, Emily somehow knew it to be true. This was just a part of her journey, a stop along the road to the great unknown.

Trick of the mind or not, Emily saw no alternative but to proceed through the door and into the station. It was bright, clean, and empty inside the station. Emily walked through the large building for some time before she saw a figure on the platform. The woman before her was, like her, dressed in the purest white, her curly hair falling freely around her shoulders. It had been nearly sixteen years since they had last met, but there was no mistaking the woman who stood before her. Emily's grandmother beamed at her, and opened her arms wide.

Emily sprinted down the desolate platform, and caught her grandmother in a warm and loving embrace. For a long time, they stood there, holding tight to each other, clinging to this sweet reunion. Emily would not have though it possible to cry in this place, but tears of joy were streaming down her cheeks. After some time, Emily gently disengaged herself from their embrace, and looked into her beloved Grandmother's face. There were tears in her eyes as well, and a sad smile upon her lips.

"Oh Emily Darling," She sighed rather sadly, "I had hoped that I would not see you here for a long, long time."

"But you're happy to see me, aren't you, Grandma?" Emily replied, suddenly worried.

"Of course I am!" She replied at once, "But, I am also sad that you were torn from life so young. No Grandmother wants that for her granddaughter."

"Oh," Emily replied. For the first time since she had arrived in this place she thought of the life that she had so recently left. The war had just ended, she remembered Madam Pomfrey whispering it in her ear. And then… nothing… she had died. She suddenly felt very sad, life in the wizarding world was going back to normal. It would be like it was last time he fell, parties and celebrations, except she would not be there. She would never be there again. She would not arrive at St. Mungo's Hospital for work the next morning, she would not go to the Leaky Cauldron with her friends that Friday night, she would not go to her mother's house for Christmas dinner come December 25, she would not marry or have children… The gravity of what had happened hit Emily like a freight train. She was gone from the world she had always known, and she would never go back, never have the life she had always imagined for herself. Her friends all had decades to live, time to kill, and she had not even had time to say goodbye. Her Grandmother must have realized what was going through Emily's mind, she took Emily's hand in her own and said,

"There, there Darling, nothing to be done about it now…"

It was several seconds before Emily could reply. "I know, but I had appointments with patients tomorrow morning, I had plans for the weekend, and it's all gone… I'm gone."

"You're only gone from your body Em, your still here," she said gently, "Who you really are, your essence, is still very much alive."

"Yeah," she said ruefully, "and what is my essence going to do for the little boy with the werewolf bit, lying in my ward in St. Mungo's? Emily was angry now, angry that she had been ripped from life when she had been trying to do nothing but good. "It isn't fair! I had a life! I had a job I loved, and patients who need me! Why am I dead when there are so many death eaters still alive?" There were angry tears in her eyes now. Her Grandmother met Emily's gaze, and said simply,

"It _isn't _fair. There is no purpose to your death, nor meaning. It didn't happen for a reason, it just happened." Tears were now leaking from her Grandmother's eyes as well. At these words, Emily softened. As bad as her situation was, she still had her grandmother her with her, she still had someone who loved her very much.

"So," Emily said wiping her eyes, "why are we here, alone, in Kings Cross Station?"

"Because, darling, this is the beginning of you next journey."

"What do you mean, where do I go from here, do you come with me?" Emily was beginning to panic. She had just been reunited with her grandmother, and she did not want to part again so soon.

"No darling, I don't come with you, I'm only here to help you come to terms with what has happened, and help you along to the next step."

"But I've only just found you again, you can't leave yet!" Emily cried

"Shh, don't fret now Emily," She said, gently cupping her cheek in her palm, "You cannot stay her in the station forever."

"What must I do? Get on a train?" Emily asked wildly.

"Not just yet. You must first find closure."

"What do you mean 'find closure'? How?"

"By saying good bye to all you love." Before Emily could question her further she held up a hand, and said gently, "This is where I leave you my love. You will find your own way from here, I know you will." The two women embraced once more, and Emily whispered,

"I love you, Grandma. Please don't leave again"

"Ah, my darling, I never really left you, and I never will…" Her whisper was as soft as a breeze. And Emily felt her grandmother fade away. Emily did not cry, she couldn't. Because tears could not do justice to the emptiness she felt standing there alone in kings cross station.

And then, before her eyes, the scene began to dissolve around her, so she was completely surrounded by blinding white light. After several moments of this blinding glory, a new, and painfully familiar scene began to form around her.

She was standing on the raised platform in the front of the great hall, surrounded by the wounded from the battle. The first light of morning had painted the hall a bright and fiery gold, and in the center of the hall, a joyous throng was crowding around something, all laughing, and crying tears of joy. Even those wounded on the platform looked elated, those who were conscious that is. Nobody seemed to take notice of her, sanding there on the platform, so she had to assume she was invisible. She looked around and saw many familiar faces, Oliver Wood, an old school friend, Most of her old Professors, and most of the Order of the Phoenix.

As she surveyed the platform, she caught sight of Madam Pomfrey, her mentor and friend of many years. She was tending to a patient about halfway down the platform. Emily walked purposely toward her, hoping that by her proximity she would somehow be able to make her presence known to the witch who had been such a role model to her.

As she got nearer, she saw that Madam Pomfrey was tending to a ragged and battered woman, who lay, seemingly unconscious under a thin blanket. And then, Emily realized with horror that the ragged women was her, and she was not unconscious, she was dead.

In that instant, Emily's death was finally very real to her. There was no question, no chance that she would wake up. And as she looked down upon her battered and broken body, she felt a sense of finality. It was what it was, and there was no helping it. Not wishing to look upon her ragged form any longer, she fixed her gaze upon Madam Pomfrey. She had Emily's lifeless wrist cradled gently in one hand as she felt, hopelessly for a nonexistent pulse with the other. After about a minute, she was forced to accept the truth that Emily was gone. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she looked down at Emily's lifeless form for several unbroken minutes. And then, because she could delay no longer, she pulled the blanked up over Emily's head, shielding her from the world that she had so recently left.

Emily was in shock. She could not believe what she had just seen. She stood there, as though paralyzed, and watched the scene around her. The last of the death eaters were rounded up, and locked away. The house tables were replaced, and food and drinks were sent up from the kitchens. Madam Pomfrey was still tending to the wounded on the platform. Emily watched her as she worked. She did not abandon her charges for a moment, not to seek food, or water, or the comfort of a friend. She was a healer, dedicated above all else to those entrusted in her care. Emily had always strived to be the same way, to emulated Madam Pomfrey who had taught her all that she knew about healing. And look where that had gotten her. If she had been watching her own back a bit more, she may still have been alive, caring for the injured, not lying among the dead. But that was not her way; that was not the duty of a healer.

A short time later, another familiar figure walked up to the platform. Minerva McGonagall looked as though she had aged ten years over the course of the battle. Her robes were torn, and there was a gash on her cheek. She walked straight over to Madam Pomfrey and said,

"How are you fairing up here, Poppy?"

"We'll manage," was Madam Pomfrey's only response. She too looked beaten down by the battle.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to make reports of all of the casualties. I know it will be difficult, but we need official death certificated drawn up to give to the families of the fallen. We are using the chamber across the entrance hall as a morgue."

"Very well, I'll see to it," responded Pomfrey with a deep sigh. "I will need someone to look after the wounded here though, Minerva."

"Certainly Poppy, anything you need. "

"I will also require assistance transporting another body to the morgue," she responded, voice wavering slightly. This did not go unnoticed by Minerva.

"Who?" Minerva asked softly, placing a gentle hand upon Poppy's shoulder.

"Emily," said Poppy weakly, tears leaking from her eyes again, "Emily Coyne."

Minerva was shocked and dismayed. Emily had been a student of hers, in her own house and all. It was heart wrenching to hear of yet another one of her pupil's deaths. She also knew that Emily had been a special protégé of Poppy's, and it was clear that Poppy was greatly upset by her death. Minerva abandoned her firm demeanor, and embraced Poppy, who began weep.

"Shhh, there, there now…" Minerva knew that she could be little more than a shoulder to cry on. There was nothing she could do to make Poppy's pain any less, or the task she was faced with any easier. Poppy cried for a bit, but pulled herself together very quickly. Though, there was nothing she could do to hide her grief.

"Well," she said, in as steady a voice as she could manage, "I best get on with it then. Thank you Minerva." And she wiped her eyes, and made off for the morgue.

It broke Emily's heart to watch this, to know the pain that she was causing the people that she loved.

Moments later, Emily saw Oliver Wood, a close friend of hers from Hogwarts step onto the platform, and make his way over to her shrouded body. His jaw was set, his expression grim. He knelt down beside her body, and lifted it gently. She did not know why, but she followed him across the hall filled with survivors, relishing in the joy of victory, across the wreckage of the entrance hall, and into the small chamber that was being used as a morgue. Bodies, shrouded in dirty, sometimes bloody, sheets lay in neat rows. Oliver lay Emily's down at the end of the furthest row. There must be close to one hundred and fifty bodies in all. It was a truly devastating sight to behold. Emily noticed that Oliver seemed to be alone here among the dead, Madam Pomfrey must not be here yet.

Oliver seemed to notice this as well as he was making to leave. He looked around, and slowly walked back to Emily's draped body. He knelt down, slowly beside it. Emily, who had planned to follow him out, not wanting to be alone in here, turned, and walked back to him. He seemed to be stealing himself to do something. And then he gently pulled back the shroud, exposing Emily's ghostly face. It appeared that he needed proof that she was actually dead before he would accept it, and now that he had his proof, he was devastated. Tears came, and then sobs racked his body as he knelt there looking down at Emily. She felt as though she was intruding on something private, and made to leave. But just then, he began to talk to her.

For one thrilling moment, Emily thought that he could see her, but soon she realized that he was addressing her body. Curious, she stayed to listen. He was talking to her after all.

"Oh Emily, what happened. Why did this happen… You were always so strong why did you leave us…We won, it's over, it's finally over, and you aren't here to celebrate." He was still crying, so his words were difficult to make out, "I wish we hadn't fallen out of touch since we left school… I was meaning to write you…ask you out for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron… I just always thought there would by time… wrong, all wrong I guess… I'm so sorry, I never gave you the time of day… I guess I've always fancied you… always thought we would be good together… but you had your career, and I had mine… and we were always such good friends, I didn't want to risk it… but now, we'll never have the chance… and I never even got to tell you how I feel… I'm just a coward, a filthy rotten coward, who ruined our chance… we could have had months, years even… but now we won't… I'm so, so, so sorry Em… if I could go back I would in a heartbeat… I would… I would tell you that I love you, I would save you… I'm so sorry… I wish I had found you sooner… I wish it had been me who was hit… I'm so sorry Emily…" He was sobbing so hard now, that you couldn't make out anything that he was saying.

Emily was shocked. After all this time, he loved her. He loved her just as she had loved him. She had never told him, because she didn't want to risk their friendship, and all this time, he had felt it too. After Hogwarts they had drifted apart, both busy with their own work, but she had always loved him. To hear now, now that it was too late was heartbreaking. He was right, they could have had years together. But it would never be, Voldemort had seen to that. Emily could see, very clearly the life she could have had with him: marriage and children, grandchildren even. And it had all been ripped from her grasp before she even knew what it was. The cruelty of death astounded her as she thought of all of the futures that had been destroyed that night.

Gazing down at Oliver, she wanted nothing more than to help him, to let him know that she was there, and that she loved him, very, very much. But she could not, because she was not really there. All he saw was her lifeless body lying beside him. Emily couldn't explain why, but she began to speak to Oliver. She knew her couldn't hear her, but maybe, just maybe something would get through to him. After all, she had just heard everything he said to her, and she was dead.

"Oliver," she started softly, "Oliver, I just want you to know that I've always loved you too… I've just been too scared to show it… I know it's too late know, but it's still important that you know… I'm sorry that I never drummed up the courage to tell you, that I was too blind to see that you loved me too… because your right, we could have had years together… it's not fair, none of this is fair… but that won't change anything," Emily had to take a deep breath, because she was having trouble going on with what she knew she wanted to say to him, "But, you can't let this ruin your happiness… you have to move on, as soon as you can… Find someone who will love you right… who will love you back, like I never did… and build a life with them, and let me stay a part of your past… So one day you can look back on me and smile, without a twinge of regret, and say that I was a great friend, and laugh about all the good times we had together," Emily reached out her hand, and placed it on his shoulder, "And if you have children one day, tell them my name, and tell them that I was your best friend… And tell them that when they love someone, they have to tell them… no matter the risk, because one day it will be too late." Emily couldn't go on any further, so she just stood there, hand resting gently on Oliver's trembling shoulder. And his sobs began to quiet. And after another minute he wiped his face, pulled the sheet lovingly back over Emily's head, and left the morgue.

Emily did not follow. She had said what needed to be said. And know, she could no longer be a part of his life, living or dead. She had to let him go. And now she knew why she was here. She had to tie up all of her loose ends, and say goodbye to the people she loved most.

A few moments later, Madam Pomfrey entered the morgue. She had a quill and parchment. She was about to write up death certificates for all of the battles casualties, to be given to the families when they came to collect the bodies. Madam Pomfrey worked quickly and silently. Intermittently, individuals or groups would arrive at the morgue to identify a loved one. It was the same with every group: They would arrive, pale and stricken, and Madam Pomfrey would show them to the body. She would pull back the sheet, and let the family see the face of their beloved. At this point the family would dissolve into grief, unable to deny the truth any longer. Madam Pomfrey would do her best to comfort them, until the next group arrived. The families seemed to come in waves. Emily guessed the school didn't have enough owls to alert everyone at once.

It was during one of the quiet times, that Madam Pomfrey made her way over to Emily's body. Like Oliver, she knelt down, pulled the drape back from her face, and began to speak.

"Oh Emily… I'm sorry…sorry I couldn't save you," tears were streaming down her cheeks, "You were such a wonderful healer… the best student any teacher could ask for… I only wish I could have been as good as you, then I could have saved you… this is all my fault, I sent you out to treat the wounded, and then I couldn't save you…" she was crying very hard now, "All the things you'll never do… all my fault…so sorry…" But the rest of what she said was unintelligible.

Emily once again, placed a hand on her shoulder, and began to speak, "Madam Pomfrey, what happened was not your fault!... there was nothing you could have done, that curse was like nothing either of us has ever seen before… there was no way you could have done anything. And you stayed by my side until the bitter end." Emily's voice was firm now, in the hope that it would get through to Madam Pomfrey. "Now you need to stop blaming yourself. You are the best healer in the country, and there are people up on that platform who need you. Don't lose your nerve. If someone can be saved, you will save them. You're a great teacher, never forget that. And keep teaching young healers to be good, and strong and compassionate. Because that's what you do best. Never forget that. It's time for you to move on now. You can't help me now." Emily's voice softened now, "But you've helped me more than you'll ever really know, and I thank you for that. I love you, and I will never be able to thank you enough for what you have done for me." After a few moments, Madam Pomfrey dried her eyes, pulled the sheet back over Emily's head, stood up, and went back to preparing death certificates. Before long, another pale and stricken family arrived at the doors to the morgue, staring the miserable cycle over again.

Emily waited anxiously for the moment when her own mother would walk through the doors. She remembered vividly the day that she and her mother had had to go and collect her father's body from the morgue at St. Mungo's. It had been her day of, so she had been at home when the owl arrived, a little over a year ago. It said simply that her father, an auror, had been killed in the line of duty, and that his body was to be identified at the Morgue at St. Mungo's. She had been tending her garden when the letter arrived, and had disapperated immediately. She had arrived at St. Mungo's, covered in earth, at the same moment her mother had. That walk down to the basement morgue had been the longest of her life, and she and her mother had held tightly to each other after the worst had been confirmed. Emily could hardly stand the thought of her mother facing that alone. But, inevitably she would have to, because Emily was gone, and she would be unable to help her mother through the pain that she had thrust upon her.

The day wore on. And eventually, funeral directors began arriving to take the bodies that had been positively identified, and slowly the room began to empty. It was late in the evening now, and her body was the only one left in the morgue. Emily assumed that her mother must be the person to be informed, because she knew that she would be there the minute she knew. Just the shortage of owls was keeping her away. But she would be here soon. Excitement built within Emily. She wanted nothing more than to see her mother, after all that she had been through. But she was also filled with dread. She feared what her mother's reaction would be when she saw her only daughter dead. Would she scream, sob, faint. When Emily's father had died, she had hung onto Emily, and they ha cried together, clung to each other for support. But now they were both alone. They had been all each other had for comfort, and that scarce solace was gone forever.

Finally, the door to the morgue creaked open, and Madam Pomfrey lead in Emily's very pale mother. Mother's hair was wet, she had clearly just finished washing it when the owl had delivered the news, and her robes were rumpled as though they had been pulled on hastily. It seemed to take them forever to cross the room to where Emily stood, over her own lifeless body. And finally they were there, and Madam Pomfrey was explaining in a weak voice that Mother had to confirm that it really was Emily under the sheet. Very carefully, Madam Pomfrey drew back the sheet, and exposed Emily's pale, dead face.

There was one horrid heartbeat of silence, where both mother and daughter wished that Emily would open her eyes and spring back to life, and the… Mother's knees seemed to give out, Madam Pomfrey helped her to the ground. Mother began to wail, to scream that it wasn't possible, and that it was a mistake. I wasn't a mistake. Madam Pomfrey put an arm around her shoulder, tears streaming down her own cheeks, trying to comfort the grieving woman beside her.

Emily was numb. It was, but far the most painful thing she had ever witnessed. And she was powerless to help. Worse, she was the cause. She knew now, irrevocably, that she had lost everything she loved, right down to her mother, warm and loving woman who had always been there, no matter what, was gone from her forever. Or rather, she, Emily, was gone from her mother. And the pain she was causing made it all the worse.

Emily suddenly felt much removed from the world of the living. She felt as though she was surrounded in a haze as she watched Madam Pomfrey pull the sheet back over her face, and followed her and Mother out of the room.

From that time on, she did not leave her mother's side. She accompanied her through the flo, and back to her childhood home. It felt very empty. Her mother had lived there alone since her father's death a little over a year ago (Emily had lived in her own flat in London since leaving Hogwarts), but now that she was dead as well, it felt even emptier, as if the house knew that she was never coming home. She stayed by mother's side all night, as mother lay awake, sobbing into her pillow, getting up once or twice to be violently ill in the bathroom. Mother's grief was like physical pain to Emily, who was powerless to stop it.

The next days were a blur to Emily. She followed her mother to the funeral home, where arrangements were made for viewings, and a burial service. She was to be put to rest beside her father, with a space for her mother left on the other side of her. That, at least was some comfort. Then a minister was called in to speak with her mother, about Emily's "passing". Emily, who had never had any use for religion during her life, was glad to see him. She knew that her mother would take great comfort in hearing that she had been carried away by angles to a land of paradise, where she would await their reunion at the pearly gates. In point of fact, Emily could not be sure that what the minister said was false, but the evidence thus far seemed to suggest that there would be not angles to carry her gently away. But, she hoped desperately that her mother would never know this. Emily knew that she would sleep much more peacefully at night if she thought her daughter was peering down at her from a cloud overhead.

The next evening, a viewing was held at the funeral parlor. It was very strange, Emily thought, seeing herself laid out in a casket. The undertakers has done well, she thought. They had dressed her in clean clothes, washed her hair, and arranged it artfully on the pillow, and covered the many gashes and bruises with modest clothes and makeup. She could almost have been asleep… Almost, but not quite. There were cascades of flowers around the oak casket, and low candles cast a calm and gentle light over the whole room. As tragic as the whole vignette was, Emily thought that the effect was good. People would think of this when they remembered her death, not the battered and broken women who had rested under a sheet in a makeshift morgue. At least most people would. The few who had seen her dead before this would not forget.

It was very strange standing beside her mother, watching person after person walk up to her casket. Some would kneel and offer a prayer, others would just look, and still others would say things to her. Little things, nothing grand, they would just say that they missed her, or that they hoped she was in a better place now. It was hard, to see so many people she cared so much about all in one place, all grieving for her. Emily wished, with all her heart, for the millionth time that she could take this pain away from them. But she could only stand there helpless, invisible to the ones she loved.

The morning of Emily's burial dawned grey and stormy. Eleven o'clock found the mourners huddled around the gravesite under black umbrellas. The minister stood next to the flower covered casket, and spoke about Emily's life. About her accomplishments, her dedication to heal others, and her selfless sacrifice. Emily thought it all rather melodramatic and maudlin. Why did he talk so much a duty and sacrifice, why didn't he share who she really was? She had been young, she had had friends, and she had stayed out to late last Friday night, and woke up with a terrible hangover the next morning. She was, in layman's terms, a normal young woman, and she wished that everyone else would see that.

Before Emily knew it, the sermon was over, and her casket was lowered into the cold, wet earth. Each mourner dropped a handful of muddy earth in on top, and walked away from the grave. Finally it was just Emily and her mother standing there. The grave had been filled in magically, and a marble headstone placed.

Mother just stood there, looking at the stone as rain pounded upon her umbrella. Emily wrapped her arms around her, in a childish attempt to protect her from the truth, to shield her from the pain. But it was no real use.

Suddenly, Mother began to speak,

"You know Em, I never imagined that I would be standing her. Not like this. No…no I always thought our roles would be reversed… I would be down there, and you would be up here, having a very one-sided conversation with my headstone… but I guess things don't always turn out the way we planned…You were just so…young… so full of life… And I don't know what I'm going to do without you…"

Mother trailed off, tears pouring down her cheeks. And, Emily began to speak as well,

"Don't cry mother, please don't cry… it's going to be alright I promise… somehow, you're going to be fine… I just don't know how yet… but trust me you'll find a way… I wish I didn't have to go… because I miss you, and I need my mommy now, because I'm sacred… oh God, I'm terrified, I don't know what's happening, and I've lost everyone I love… I wish that you could put your arms round me, because then I would know that I am safe," Emily took a deep breath, and tried to steady her voice, "But, we can't have that comfort anymore… because they tore us apart… but I will always love you… no matter where I go from here! No matter what happens! Please, if you feel anything of my presence here, feel that I love you, with all of my heart, and know that you are the hardest thing in this world to lose. And please, please try to let go of the pain… don't cry over me forever… I would never, never forgive myself if you did…" Emily paused, bracing herself for what she knew that she had to do, "And that's why I have to leave you now… because I need to let you be free… free to forget your pain, and live your life." Emily could hardly continue, "If you can do just one thing for me, just try to keep living… I love you mommy, I love you so much…Good bye…"

As the words left her lips her lips, bright fog rolled in all around Emily. And she knew that she was forever leaving the world of the living. The fog kept coming, and her mother's outline grew fainter and fainter as the bright white fog took her into its arms. And then, she could see nothing at all, it was as if everything was pure white light…

Slowly, a station platform began to materialize before her eyes. Emily felt as though she had survived and eternity while she traipsed among the living, but everything on the platform indicated that no time had passed. Emily had not enjoyed her experience. It had been difficult and painful. It destroyed her to know that she was gone forever from the life that she had lead, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she never wanted to go back, not like that…

Not entirely sure of where she was headed, Emily wondered around the station. And then he saw it, the barrier between platforms nine and ten, the entrance to platform nine and three quarters. Emily walked with a purpose straight up to the barrier, and then directly through it. She emerged on a very familiar platform, where a dazzling white steam engine was belching smoke.

So, she did have to board a train after all. Emily stepped boldly up into one of the cars, and took a seat. It was very strange, sitting on the school train alone. After a few moments, a whistle blew, and the train lurched into motion. Instinctively, Emily looked out the window as the platform began to move by. She remembered, like it was yesterday, sitting on the train on her way to start her first year at Hogwarts. She had waved to her mother, who followed that train all the way down the platform. And then just before that train made it's bend into the countryside, mother had blown her a kiss. Emily had excused herself to the bathroom at that time, so she could let her tears escape in private.

Emily was leaving her mother again, but this time there was no one around, so she let her tears flow freely. The train wound its way through the pristine countryside, and the bright sun began to sink behind the snowcapped mountains. And then, the train pulled into a tiny station. Emily assumed that this was her stop, and disembarked. She half expected to hear Hagrid calling for first yeas. But the platform, like the train, was deserted.

Seeing no carriages, Emily made her way down to the little harbor, where a single boat was tied. Without hesitation she boarded the boat, and untied it. The tiny boat sailed out towards open water. She sailed through a curtain of ivy, and there before her was Hogwarts Castle, perched above the lake, reflected like the stars on the mirror-like surface of the water. The sight was truly breathtaking, as if she was a first year again. And in many ways she was. She was sailing into the unknown, the undiscovered country.

The boat pulled into the boathouse, and Emily stepped out, beginning the long trek up to the oak front doors. The castle before her was pristine and perfect, it had never seen battles or death. It was just as it should be, a sanctuary, a crucible of magical learning.

Emily walked through the heavy oak doors, and into the warm and gleaming entrance hall. To the right were the doors to the great hall. Emily hesitated only an instant before she entered the magnificent room. The stars shone brilliantly on the ceiling, and thousands of floating candles lit the room. Like everywhere else Emily had been the hall was completely deserted. However, at the far end, on the raised platform, where the empty head table was, stood a stool, atop which was the old school sorting hat.

At a loss for anything else to do, Emily walked up to the stool, sat down, and placed the hat on her head. Just as it had when she was eleven, it fell down over her eyes, and began to speak to her.

"So," it whispered in her ear, "The moment of truth has come, you've finally made I here, and now you have a choice to make…"

"What do you mean, aren't you going to sort me or something?" Emily replied very confused, "Isn't that what you're here for?"

"No, not in this place. Here, I just give you your options, where you go is entirely up to you…"

"What do you mean options, I'm dead! How many places are there to go?"

"There infinite places to go…"

"What does that mean?" Asked Emily, getting annoyed by the hat's cryptic responses.

"You walked among the living for a time, and you could do that again…"

"You mean like a ghost?" Emily asked

"Yes, or… You could go on…"

"What do you mean, 'Go On'?"

"You move beyond what you are now, you become a part of everything that ever was…"

Many years ago, Emily had read something in a muggle book that had made a profound impression on her life. She had read about Energy. And about how all energy eventually becomes heat, and it can't be used again. It just exists as entropy. Every bit of spent energy in the universe, every fire that ever burned to keep someone warm, every meal ever shared with family, the product of the synaptic firings of every though anyone has ever had, every person who has ever lived is now heat. A body of unusable energy warning the entire universe. The remnants of everything that ever was, all together as one. As a ubiquitous part of the universe… In that moment years ago, Emily had seen heaven. She saw what is proven to come of everything. And she knew that it was true, and real, and so beautiful…

And now, here she sat, about to become a part of that beautiful unity… but she had to choose it, freely and willingly. She would not be borne there on a tide of warmth as she had always envisioned, she would have to go there of her own power. She would have to willingly surrender everything she had ever know, sacrifice her individuality, to become something greater than she could imagine…

She sat for a long time, contemplating under the hat. She knew what would become of her if she went back as a ghost. She would drift faintly among the living for all eternity, trapped forever in the world that she should have left. But, what would it be like to go on? She had no frame of reference, no touchstone. She would be forced to take a monumental leap of faith, and she had never been god with faith…

And then, Emily tought of her mother, of Madam Pomfrey, of Oliver Wood, and she was overwhelmed by a mad desire to go back to the all… But then remembered… remembered the way she had left them. Remembered that they were alive, and would move along with their lives in spite of her absence. And that she could only ever be a shadow of who she was before…

Suddenly, Emily knew what she wanted to do. She had made peace, and said goodbye, no it was time to really go. To go "on", to become more than she could ever comprehend…

A beautiful happiness filled Emily as she said, "I'm ready to go…"

And the darkness under the hat became more absolute. She was encompassed by a feeling of such warmth, like being wrapped in a warm blanked. An absolute calm settled over Emily, and she became the warmth that surrounded her. And in this disembodied state, her mind was opened like never before… And she was the Universe.

_**Author's Note: **__Anything and everything you recognize is property of J.K. Rowling, and Warner Brothers. _

_Also, if you were at all offended by my interpretation of heaven, it's your own fault, I didn't make you read the story _

_Please leave a review, good or bad. _

_Also, check out my other stories! They're a bit happier. _


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